A boxing opera comes to the Met, with a jazz-infused score, powerful movement, and wobbly storytelling.

The road for women is steeper, and even the fiercest maestros aren’t quite so hard on the musicians.

It’s early to say. But the inaugural concert--with two very different ensembles--was encouraging.

Inside the organ at St. Bartholomew’s.

The Philadelphia Orchestra brings an underappreciated Florence Price symphony to Carnegie Hall.

After 572 silent days.

The baritone steps into the opera world’s most visible spot -- the Met’s opening-night lead.

When it finally came time to file into a concert hall and sit down before a few dozen tuning musicians, it was like rediscovering a strange, forgotten rite.

He was king of the American musical world and emperor of opera. He was also a monster who sexually preyed on children

At Brooklyn’s Green-Wood, a moving performance that roved among the crypts.

With Soundwalk, Ellen Reid’s composition that changes according to your GPS location.

A little of what fans are craving.

The pandemic silenced the city’s symphony halls and grand opera houses. But will the (eventual) restart bring with it a reckoning?

To institutions and artists and audiences alike.

Few composers have ever rendered loneliness as lovingly as he did or surrounded it in such a halo of compassion.

New Yorkers’ shouting-and-pot-banging celebration of essential workers, turned into music.

They’ll retain health and instrument insurance, but not their salaries.

A week at the virtual Met Opera is a week without duds or off-nights.

Performers and staff, already living close to the edge, have little margin for a long layoff.

Yes, it will be brutal to the performing-arts economy. It’s also necessary.

A composer of eclectic influences and twisty, back and forth scores (and, by the way, a Pulitzer winner).

A rough year for institutions, a great year for their music.

On many occasions, I have watched as the tenor Plácido Domingo, bellowing at full volume, grabbed a woman by the wrist and hurled her to the floor. Sometimes he jammed a knife in her gut.

The longest-running, dumbest debate in musical categorization got an answer at the Met's season-opening night: "Porgy and Bess" is neither a musical nor an opera; it's two operas. One is a profound and moving portrait of neighborhood pummeled by deprivation, racism, and hurricanes.

If you were a music lover in early 20th-century New York -- and in many other parts of the country, too -- chances are you loved the music of the French composer and pianist Cécile Chaminade. You had her piano miniatures or songs propped up on the piano for impromptu performances with friends.

Pierre-Laurent Aimard & Tamara Stefanovich, David Lang & Elizabeth Diller, Ashley Fure, Anna Thorvaldsdóttir, Leonard Bernstein...

Perhaps, like me, you've sometimes felt as though the snippets of talk you overhear in the street might be lines from a vast urban play. People declaim when they're on the phone so that complaints about nefarious co-workers, tales of children's misdemeanors, plans for a weekend escapade, or even just a saga of online shopping acquires an epic cast.

Heidi Waleson's "Mad Scenes and Exit Arias" traces the history of New York City Opera, from its founding in 1943 as the "People's Opera" to the night, 70 years later, when executive director George Steel presided over an ignominious closure.

The New York Philharmonic usually opens each season with "The Star-Spangled Banner," but in his first concert as the orchestra's music director, Jaap van Zweden decided to skip the anthem -- probably not out of solidarity with Colin Kaepernick, but because it would have ruined the effect of the first piece on the program, Ashley Fure's new "Filament."

Imagine that you're a young composer and one day you realize that you don't much care for notes. Actually, you're also kind of disappointed in instruments, pitch, melody, and rhythm.

I don't know her name, but a young composer has just shown up in New York. Maybe she's a singer or a cellist, or both, and also a whiz with the editing software on her laptop. She's got a playlist full of Latin hip-hop and early minimalism and Iranian kamancheh music and for a while she played bass in a punk bluegrass band.

The Metropolitan Opera's self-exoneration raises a lot of questions about its role in furnishing the power that Levine abused.